


Solavellan Drabble/Fluff/Angst pieces

by superb_mediocrity



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Desire, F/M, Other, Sexual Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-01
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-05-24 02:59:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6139009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superb_mediocrity/pseuds/superb_mediocrity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inquisitor Lavellan and Solas get close as he heals one of her injuries. May possibly become part of my chaptered Solavellan Fic "Only Fools Rush In", but originated as being an answer to a prompt that called for certain lines to be used. The prompt can be found on my Tumblr page if you're curious.  </p>
<p>Enjoy :)<br/>--J</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Campfire Shenanigans

“I think it’s broken.”

Salty tears spilled from deep pools of honey-brown, their wetness highlighting the flecks of amber that took on a reddish hue in the firelight. Streaks of black kohl ran down from her eyes and stained her cheeks, the peaks of color corresponding with the pattern of fallen tears. 

“It is not broken, da’len.” 

The words felt strange on his tongue, the muscle having been so unaccustomed to such acts of endearment or intimacy. But even with the strangeness, there was a pleasure in the action, a sense of rightness that fluttered into place and made his heart ache and swell into his throat. 

She mewled dramatically as he lifted her arm to examine the swollen, red skin around her wrist. He handled it gingerly, taking care not to exacerbate the wound, and lightly stroked the area with the tips of his fingers, expelling small waves of healing magic in an attempt to lessen the pain. She whimpered at his touch, and he almost laughed at her reaction. In truth, it was barely more than a sprain, something that would heal naturally within a few days’ time if rested properly, but still she reacted as though it were paining her greatly, even as the effects of his magic took hold and the swelling went down. 

She was proving to be a horrible patient, but Solas didn’t mind her whining. It was oddly charming, he thought, to see how such emotion manifested itself in the girl. It evidenced her youth, how unused she was to any sort of great pain or injury, and this made the mage feel a bizarre sort of pleasure to know that her world thus far seemed relatively free of hurt or loss.

Absentmindedly, his fingers danced over the soft brown of her skin as he magicked away her pain, his feather-light touches creating goosebumps in their wake. Solas couldn’t help but notice how close they were at this moment, all his previous attempts towards keeping her at a distance seemingly inconsequential. He could see clearly the soft pink that highlighted the rosy pout of her lips; their beauty eclipsed only by the flickering shine of her dark hair as the tresses fluttered and hung onto the evasive flounce of the breeze. He marveled at the delicate slope of her shoulders as she leaned towards him, the dying glow of the fire setting her bare skin alight with flame and warmth. He looked up to find her looking at him, the tears in her eyes replaced by a hungry darkness that drew Solas in and captivated him entirely, like an insect caught in a web. 

“Put some clothes on, for the love of the Maker.”

The superfluously obnoxious sound of Dorian’s entrance into camp startled the couple from their reverie. The inquisitor yanked back her hand, and held it gingerly to her chest, looking bashfully down towards the ground. Solas regarded the intruder agitatedly, a slow, angry burn radiating down from his ears. 

“It’s pitch black, and I can see you’re blushing, Solas. Up to no good are we?”

“Hello, Dorian.”

The greeting sounded false, even to himself, and Solas could feel his irritation towards Dorian mounting, the heat from his ears creeping down to his cheeks. It had been ages since he had felt this sort of boiling, festering frustration, and it reminded him woefully of his youth. 

“Oh, leave the kids alone, Dorian. Chuckles here was just helping the Inquisitor with an injury is all.” Varric garnished his comment with a dramatic wink in their direction, chiming his opinion loudly for everyone within earshot to hear. This made Dorian chuckle, a loud burst of sound that seemed to make the flames brighten with its mirth. 

“Well they might as well be naked. The sexual tension is palpable”, Dorian responded, dragged out the last word to emphasize his point.

A flash of movement caught Solas’ attention, and he turned to see the Inquisitor covering her mouth as she attempted to control a burst of giggles. 

“I’m sorry Solas…” she whispered, her voice lilting delightfully and giving his name a silky soft musicality that seemed to hum in the air, “…but you are blushing!”


	2. Solavellan Drabble #2 : This couch ain't big enough for the two of us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inquisitor Aaiva Lavellan has a bit too much to drink and invites herself over to stay with Solas.
> 
> This drabble post is also in response to a prompt where certain phrases had to be used.

It was a gray day, humid and wet; a stormy pressure weighing heavily on all those who called Skyhold home. The clouds hung low, almost close enough to touch, tufts of gray swirling in the breeze. Thunder echoed on the wind’s heel, rumbling the foundations of earth and sky to convey its grumbling message: _I am coming, I am coming, I am coming._

Trapped inside by the threat of rain, the Inquisitor wandered the halls of her new home. Something in the feel of the air reminded her of her clan, of days spent in aravels, the familiar comfort of the Keeper’s stories keeping them warm in the nasty weather. She pushed the memories away from her mind as a sharp pang echoed deep in her heart, feeding off of the smothered feelings of loss and loneliness that had been secretly consuming her since the breach. She attempted to ignore the emotions that threatened to devour her, and forced her little-used sense of duty to take over. She could not afford to be sentimental; she could not afford to lose focus. 

She looked for something to do, trying desperately to occupy herself with petty diversions, but nothing held her attention. As a last resort, she busied herself with work, approving requisitions and reading the letters that had piled up on her desk. The work was mindless, however, and the monotony allowed her mind to wander back to her clan, back to a life that could no longer support her with its simplicity. 

Her attempts to quiet her mind were failing, and she searched for solace in every way she could imagine—a quest that somehow ended with her staring into the bottom of an empty bottle. The drink had been sweet, with a sharp, clear taste that reminded her of raspberries. However, now bereft of her distraction, she roamed like a wraith through the stronghold, wretched in her melancholy, and desperate for a diversion. The pungent smell of paint caught her attention, and she followed it willingly, ending up in the rotunda; witness to Solas as he painted another panel of the magnificent fresco that covered the high walls. 

She sat on the large sofa and watched him quietly, the alcohol making her head buzz pleasantly. It was wonderful, the way he painted, she mused; watching delightedly as his expert hand applied the grand sweeps of color. The simple motion of him painting did much to quiet the roar inside her head, and she became sleepy, her eyelids seeming to grow impossibly heavy as she watched him. 

Something cool brushed her cheek, rousing her from her sleep. She leaned into the cold, delighting in how cleansing it felt against her fevered skin, and opened her eyes to a blur of hazy shapes. Blinking her eyes clear, she saw a very perplexed looking Solas, his hand on her cheek , and a deep, cloudy worry in his eyes that made his brow furrow with concern. He let his hand drop away from her face as she sat up, and the girl couldn’t help but feel upset at the sudden absence of his touch. 

“I fear you have stolen my bed, Inquisitor.” 

His voice was soft as he regarded her; polite, but tinged with an almost imperceptible confusion that subtly manifested itself in his wary greeting. 

“Hello to you too, Solas.” 

Even through the raucous buzzing in her head, she could still recognize the evidence of her slumber in the gravely hoarseness of her voice. Despite the sound, his eyes lit up at her words, a twinkling shine brightening the worried blue. 

“Why has the Inquisitor decided to grace my presence at such a late hour?”

“I felt lonely…I wanted to see what you were up to.”

The words came out _friendlier_ than she had intended, and the mage smiled at her in amused surprise, the dark clouds returning to his eyes. A blinding heat rose hastily to her face once she realized what she had said, and she wished desperately that she could go back in time and cut out her tongue before uttering a word to the mage. 

She fell back down to the couch, hiding her face amidst the soft pillows that littered the cushions. The wine was making her chatty, her tongue ready to spill every secret thing she was trying so hard to forget. Regaining some composure, she tried to explain her answer. 

“I mean, it was raining, and I felt…you would think, that with so many people…” she blubbered the words in a confusing mess of emotion. She must be more intoxicated than she realized if she wasn’t even able to say simple sentences. 

If he could smell the wine on her, he didn’t mention it, and Aaiva was grateful. Instead, he sat next to her, demonstrating an easy grace in his movements that surprised the girl, and looked at her with a tender kindness she hadn’t seen in ages.

“I understand da’len.”

His voice was gentle; soft splashes of sound that washed over the inquisitor and covered her completely with their kindness.

They were incredibly close, so close that she imagined she could feel the warmth radiating off of his body, and smell the earthy scent of wet grass, leaves, and parchment. It was a heady smell, perfectly Solas, and it made her head swim deliciously in response. His proximity was beginning to affect her greatly, or maybe it the alcohol, and she briefly wondered if he could hear her heart pounding wildly in her chest. Even so, she liked the way it felt having him so close to her. It felt good, right, almost satisfying in a way—like taking a deep, cleansing breath. 

“Can I stay here tonight?” 

The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them, and his eyes widened dramatically into bright, blue orbs of bafflement. After a moment, the shock seemed to dissipate and he looked at her warily, considering her question. Aaiva like him this way, his face screwed up into a freckled mass of confusion. It was rare to get such extreme reactions out of him, at least in her experience. He always seemed so collected, in control, and Aaiva felt a perverse sense of satisfaction knowing she had actually done something that made him react this way. 

“You want to sleep here _with me_?” He spoke slowly, enunciating every syllable, his voice dripping with incredulity.

She rolled her eyes at his tone.

“I don’t underst—“

She cut him off before he could finish, the alcohol making her bold. 

“Not everything has to mean something, Solas! Besides, if I have clothes on, it’s not technically sleeping with each other.” 

She laughed at her own joke, too drunk at this point to be surprised by her declaration. The mage was silent for a moment, his eyes returning to that worried shade of foggy blue as he considered her words. 

The sofa was large enough for them both to fit comfortably, and Solas lay down timidly next to her, gingerly turning so that his body fit in line with hers. The torches dimmed slightly, casting the room in semi-darkness, and Aaiva suspected that Solas was the culprit behind the loss of light. Eventually his breathing slowed, and she wondered if he was dreaming of the fade. She imagined what it would be like to dream like him, always wandering, searching for the forgotten truths that only the fade could provide. She let the thought consume her, lulling her to sleep with thoughts of leaves and parchment and grass after it rains.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope someone enjoys; I was half asleep when I wrote it, but that's life!  
> Feel free to leave constructive criticism/comments! I really appreciate them!
> 
> If anyone wants to see the prompt for this writing, you can find it and my other stuff on Tumblr:
> 
> http://superb-mediocrity.tumblr.com/


	3. Lavellan and The Wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Interpretation of the fairy tale, "Little Red Riding Hood" involving my Inquisitor Lavellan and Solas as The Wolf.

The stories always begin and end the same—once upon a time, and happily ever after. They always take place in a time long ago, in a land far away, where everything is governed by justice and love and there is always a happy ending.

But this is no fairy tale, da'len. This story is real. It did not occur in a land far away, but in these very woods. There is no happy ending, no justice, and no love. Just truth. And thus begins the tale of Aaiva Lavellan and The Wolf.

It began as any other day, for Aaiva. She woke to the sound of birds conversing merrily in the trees and the smell of breakfast cooking outside. Clothing herself quickly, she departed the aravel where she had been sleeping; being sure to don her deep, scarlet hood the keeper had made for her. It was enchanted with several masking spells, to keep her movements silent and her body concealed in shadow as she hunted. She never left camp without it. Quickly, she hurried from the familiar fires of home, desperate to get to the shem village and back before nightfall; it was Keeper Deshanna’s birthday and there was to be a grand celebration. 

But on her way back through the thick mazy green of the forest, Aaiva ran into trouble. Whatever it was, it had been following her for a while, the sensation of being watched giving her goose-bumps. Sitting perched on a sturdy branch high in the trees, Aaiva watched her stalker come into view.

She had laid a false trail for him; small crumbs of the sweets she had been carrying littering the ground. The pastries were for her clan; a rarity among a people so used to basic meals of whatever they could hunt and gather. Cakes were a treat, given only on the most rare, and special of occasions. And down below, a horrendous, beastly wolf crouched, sniffing and licking up the scattered morsels. 

Aaiva chuckled quietly to herself. A wolf with a sweet tooth…she had never before seen such a thing.

He was a great, ugly thing this creature. Taller than a qunari, with a deep, wiry coat of black fur. The moonlight glimmered off of his jet black hair, the sheen of light making him appear even larger and more sinister as he snuck soundlessly below. 

What a beautiful cape he would make, she thought, with enough left over to make a blanket and several other items the clan could use. 

Aaiva flitted from tree to tree, following his progress towards the great basket of goodies that was originally meant for her clan. She had stalked him for what seemed like hours, and he never once looked up, foolish creature. Why would he, the girl reasoned, predators never assume they are really the prey; there is no point in scanning the sky above, if his meal is always below.

The beast stopped suddenly. He must have found her basket. Her fingers twitched over the hilt of her dagger. It would only take a second, a mere moment for her to line up the small blade and have it pierce the rippling hide of the grotesque figure below.  
But what’s the fun in that?

Crouching down on the branches, Aaiva pulled the hood from over her eyes. Aiming carefully, the girl lined up her throw and slung the blade with expert precision. With a resounding twang, the blade sunk itself in the trunk of the tree where her goodies where hidden, coming to rest no less than an inch away from the sniffling dark nose of the wolf as he searched.

Startled, he whipped around to find the source of the knife, and it was all Aaiva could do to not burst into laughter. He looked like a puppy chasing his tail, running about so bewilderedly in the darkness. 

She took a running start and jumped to the ground, landing lightly on the balls of her feet. She stood up carefully, examining the foul creature before her. Tilting his head to the side, the wolf gazed at her warily, 6 blood-red eyes scanning over what he must have thought to be an easy conquest.

“Who are you creature, to come sniffing after my basket?” Aaiva’s voice was sure, its usual sweet lilting charm masked by her confident swagger. 

“Why, I am _The Wolf_ , dear girl,” his voice purred seductively as he responded, “…but my friends…they call me Solas.”

Aaiva snorted, the name was just too fitting. “Your name fits you, great wolf, too prideful to see that I have been watching you for hours, and caught you with a basket of pastries!”

“You would do best to fear _The Wolf_ , girl” the creature growled at her, menace darkening the ruby red of his eyes. His voice was a deep grumble of sound, thick and loud enough to make the ground beneath her shake. 

Aaiva giggled again at the noise, the rumbling of the forest floor tickling her bare feet. If this wolf thought he could scare her like this, then he was sorely mistaken.

“Oh such a voice! For what do you compensate I wonder?”

Pretending to edge around and take a peek at his underbelly, the creature pounced and landed above her, one giant black paw pressing her firmly to the ground.

“Do not mock me, child of The People! I am your worst nightmare come to being!”

Right as he placed the paw upon her chest, Aaiva lashed out. Pulling a dagger from the halter around her thigh, she held it up to the great beast’s neck, pressing through the dense fur and to the delicate skin beneath.

“I fear _nothing_ , least of all you, oh dread wolf. You would have me shaking in my smalls? Then give me something to fear!”

With a ferocious growl, the wolf attacked the girl, but Aaiva was too quick. Jumping and dodging and flitting through the trees, she countered the wolf’s advances. But even for all her quickness, she could not account for the sheer size of the creature. It only took one blow for her to be knocked back down, held helplessly underneath the weight of a giant paw. 

Chuckling, the wolf gazed at her, hubris at his victory making his red eyes light up and dance in the moonlight. Aaiva wiggled desperately from beneath him, and finally getting an arm free, the girl stabbed the great paw that held her down. The wolf yowled in pain, but didn’t let up his grip on the girl, instead he turned to her and gnashed his teeth in agony; howling and groaning as he made to attack her with his snapping jaws. 

Without thinking, Aaiva held up her hand to defend herself from those giant teeth, only to feel a sickening pop as the beast tore her arm off at the elbow. The wolf jumped in glee at his prize, giving the girl time to pull out her other dagger and ram it into the gloating throat of the wolf. He seemed surprised at the attack, his eyes clouding in confusion as death came for him quickly. 

Wrapping her arm in the red cloak she had around her neck, Aaiva attempted to stop the flow of blood. Shakily, she skinned the great beast, taking the jawbone and the jet black hide as mementos of her glorious victory. Lugging the treasures behind her, she gathered up what was left of her basket and made her way home. As she walked, she noticed that she was beginning to feel light headed. She must be exhausted from the fight. Hurrying her pace, she rushed towards the warm fire that she knew waited for her. 

Finally, as the first light of dawn was barely peaking from behind the trees, Aaiva saw the hazy figures of her family and friends as they rushed to greet her. With a sigh, Aaiva dropped the basket and hide; her burden had become too much, and she felt relieved to be able to finally put it down. Collapsing to the ground, she rolled over to face the sky.   
Aaiva watched as bright hues of yellow and orange appeared with the dawn. Smiling, she gripped the rough black fur of the great wolf, closing her eyes and waiting for the others to reach her. Her last thought before everything faded away was that the keeper would be proud.

With her final breath, she was set free, her spirit rising up to become a shimmering part of the dawn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love comments!!!!!!!!!!!  
> Feel free to Comment/give constructive criticism.  
> Also, you can view this and other Solavellan stuff on my Tumblr blog:  
> http://superb-mediocrity.tumblr.com/


	4. A Frightened Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas and the Inquisitor end up sharing a tent when a thunderstorm rolls through. Just a cute little fluff piece in response to a prompt :) Is also part of my actual fic "only fools rush in" if you wanna go check it out :)

A ground-shaking blast of thunder awoke Aaiva suddenly from her dreams. Startled by the noise, her eyes flew open just as a bolt of lightning flashed in the sky, illuminating the heavens in such a way that it was visible even through the thick fabric of her tent. Pulling the blanket over her head, the girl curled up into herself, attempting to become as small as possible. Her heart thudded in time with the earth as another bout of thunder rolled through, its steady roar seeming to settle right in the pit of her stomach.

Aaiva whimpered as another blast of lightning lit up the tent, the electric glow creating distorted shadows that seemed grotesque and menacing in the heavy dark of the forest. Thunder clapped again, and Aaiva shot straight up, racing out into the storm without thinking. Icy pellets of rain stung her skin as she darted through the trees, the sight of her own elongated shadow chasing after her spurring her to quicken her pace as lighting flashed overhead. She could feel the effects of adrenaline coursing through her veins as she ran, heightening her sense of fear and the threat of danger. 

Upon entering Solas’ tent, she could feel the sharp edges of her anxiety wear away, muffled by the soothing sound of Solas’ soft breathing as he slept. Aaiva watched him for a moment, amazed by his ability to sleep through the storm outside. Kneeling beside him, she removed her sopping wet shift and threw it off to the side. Clad only in her smallclothes, she crawled under the unused edge of his blanket, carefully scooting as close to him as possible without touching him with her cold, wet skin. She sighed contentedly as she began to warm up, the heat from his body soothing the hurts caused by the icy rain. 

As safe as she felt with Solas by her side, Aaiva couldn’t help but whimper as the storm continued to rage on, her body gradually coming to rest closer to Solas’ as she lay next to him in the dark. An earsplitting howl of thunder made her cry out, her hands rushing to cover her mouth in an attempt to stifle the noise. 

Suddenly, she was moving; her body being gathered and turned so that she lay on her side. A pair of arms shot out, one reaching under her head and the other coming to rest over her, holding her tightly and pulling her against him so that her back was pressed against the solid warmth of his bare chest. Completely trapped in his embrace, Aaiva let her hands fall away from her face, adjusting so that their fingers were intertwined.

Aaiva tensed as light filled the tent, and Solas pulled her closer to him. Nuzzling into her neck, he whispered “Do not be afraid, vhenan”, but the girl cringed as a blast of thunder drowned out his words. Aaiva heard him chuckle softly, but any injustice she felt was soon forgotten as he planted a series of kisses from right below her ear to the base of her neck. 

“Ar lath ma vhenan. Now go to sleep”

Aaiva wanted to tell them that was impossible; that there was no way she could sleep with the storm like this, but then he began to sing softly in her ear. The girl quieted; the tune seemed familiar, though the words passed like clouds over her, their true meaning far out of her reach. She began to feel drowsy as she listened, the crashing of thunder doing little to bother her as his song filled her head. Relaxing against him, she closed her eyes; the delicate lilt of his voice growing softer and softer as she fell asleep.


	5. Let's Go On A Fade Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aaiva wakes up to find and empty camp, and a really happy Solas. This is some cutesy, fade-date Solavellan fluff. Slight NSFW undertones.

Aaiva awoke to soft touches caressing the length of her arm. The sensation was pleasing, and it caused a low hum of approval to escape as she gradually awoke; breaking the silent calm of morning that hung over camp. Even as she wriggled from their attention, however, the fingers never stopped their travels, continuing to peruse her exposed flesh until Aaiva fell asleep once more.

When she opened her eyes again, Aaiva was horrified to see the bright glare of the sun burning through the maroon fabric of Solas’ tent—indicating its recent rise to the middle of the sky. She felt a panic begin to claw at her, and she could almost hear Cassandra scolding her for her tardiness. As she reached beside the bedroll her for her crumpled pile of clothing, her hand brushed a knotted ring of flowers that had been carefully laid over the heap. Smiling, she placed the arrangement on her head. It smelled wonderful—like rainwater and earth—and the petals were so soft against her skin.

A momentary burst of bravery pushed Aaiva to walk out into the fiery light of midday—and she girded herself for what would undoubtedly be a barrage of quips meant to embarrass her regarding her overnight stay in Solas’ tent. She had her excuse planned before she had finished tying her breeches; she had been afraid of the storm, she would tell them, and she had fallen asleep, accidentally of course, while they were talking about…something. And the flowers? Oh, of course, the flowers are some that she had picked and thought were pretty…Dalish customs and other such nonsense—

A perfect excuse, Aaiva nodded, attempting to instill within herself the same mock bravery she had watched her best friend, Taloain, emulate a thousand times before when she still lived with the Lavellan clan.

Yep, it was foolproof; not even the slightest bit arguable.

As soon as she emerged from tent, ready to face all of her companions’ smug faces, Aaiva was astounded to find nothing around; only the remains of an empty camp—creators, where had everyone gone?

The absence of her entire party was curious; they never had left her at camp completely alone before. Were they angry with her? Everyone had seemed normal enough the previous night—happy even, as they all laughed at Varric’s jokes and chided Cassandra’s sour faces. Wandering along the forest edge that skirted the camp, Aaiva searched for any signs of her missing friends, but found nothing to signal their ever having been there—all that remained were the empty tents that shuffled in the breeze.

“Good morning, Inquisitor.”

Aaiva whipped around to meet the speaker and came to face a very smug looking Solas, who stood beneath a particularly shadowy fringe of forest. He shot her a beaming smile, and Aaiva felt as if the entire world grew warmer and brighter as he did until he seemed to glow in the soft light he himself had created.

Coming to stand directly in front of the girl, Solas reached up and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

“I see you got my flowers.”

Aaiva turned her head as she began to blush; attempting to brush off the warmth that flooded her face at his observation. She quickly decided to change the subject, fixating instead on his greeting.

“Uhm—“, she cleared her throat, “—is it morning?” she looked towards the sky, searching for the location of sun but unable find the source of the bright light that bathed them.

Solas smiled. “Does it really matter?”

Well, well. Aaiva gaped at the elf, caught between shock and joy for his teasing and easy confidence. “I suppose not…though isn’t it strange to you that the entire camp is gone? Where is everyone?”

She gestured dramatically towards the empty tents, and was answered by a barking laugh. “Off having their own adventures, I imagine.”

Ah. She smiled as the realization slowly dawned on her, and immediately thereafter rushed towards the empty camp. Reaching a hand out, she felt the fabric of her tent, letting it slide between her fingers as another bout of wind caught its edges and lifted them in the breeze. She was shocked at how realistic it was to her—at how abnormally, freakishly present she felt in this strange place.

“Can you show me?” Her voice dripped with incredulity—her smile caught between amazement and complete disbelief.

“Ma nuvenin, vhenan.”

She was suddenly blind as cool hand pressed against her face, blocking her view of Solas’ creation.

Aaiva wrapped her fingers around his wrist and tried to pull away the hand that sheltered her view, but was unable to escape in time to see the world around them shatter, and then reassemble once more into something even more beautiful.

Woah.

A blanket of stars covered them both, and Aaiva marveled at the lovely diamond flecks that set the world around them aglow with silver light, their influence broken only by the jagged forest edge that tickled the sky above. Aaiva’s breath caught in her chest as a humming breeze coursed through her head, making her feel giddy and restless. Solas must have felt the same, because a mischievous glint sparked in his eye as he wrapped Aaiva’s small hand in his own.

His advance made Aaiva smile, but embarrassment at her own excitement forced her to turn back towards the landscape that filled the horizon. The steady slap of water caught her attention then, and looking down, she was shocked to find herself at the edge of a large lake, the rippling waves reflecting the mural of lights that danced above with magnificent clarity.

Aaiva bent and placed a hesitant finger into the pool, delighted to feel the cool slip of water sliding over her skin. Turning the face Solas, she grinned; impressed by the level of detail he presented her in this fantasy. A sudden impulsivity drove Aaiva to get undressed, and she threw her clothing in a playful heap at Solas’ feet, followed by her flower crown, which she placed neatly on top. Following her cue, Solas also tugged the edge of his own shirt over his head and threw it to the ground; climbing in after the bright eyed girl.

Together they eased into the cold darkness of the lake, the ribbons of speckled water enveloping them completely. Aaiva delighted in the floating sensation, and gasped as she attempted to propel herself through the swirling liquid that tugged and clung to her naked skin.

Once she had reached what she assumed to be the approximate center of the lake, she became still, letting herself fall into the inky depths. She opened her eyes after several moments, just as soon as she felt her foot scrape against the sandy bottom. Everything around her shimmered with an obsidian sheen, the artificial moonlight peeking through the murky abyss and setting everything aglow with its cold shine.

Aaiva felt a soft nudge on her thigh. Turning, she found her companion, his blue eyes shining like beacons as he gestured towards something above her. The girl was shocked by his rapid appearance; fenedhis, was he fast! As she glanced in the direction he pointed out, Aaiva let out a silent scream of bubbles that toppled uselessly to the surface as she simultaneously kicked through the water in an attempt to escape the horror that threatened her. As she panicked, the elf beside her just shook in mute laughter as his cries were drowned by the murky waves.

Just to her right, a silver dash of scales flashed by, revealing the wriggling form of a giant fish perhaps two or three times larger than Aaiva, herself. For a moment, the girl was afraid that the pair had somehow stumbled upon the lair of some sort of strange, water-breathing fade dragon, but her worry quickly turned into astonishment as she watched Solas swim right up to the creature, and touch a gleaming scale with his palm. The animal barely acknowledged his presence, however, instead focusing on the writhing glimmers of light that danced off of the shimmering body of another leviathan—its partner Aaiva surmised—as they danced in the shivering moonlight that cut through the depths.

Inspired by Solas’ confidence, Aaiva swam over to where her companion hovered, reaching out a tentative hand to match the one Solas had placed on the beast’s scaly flank. Noting her hesitation, Solas rolled his eyes and laughed once more—signaled by the explosion of bubbles that burst from his mouth and nose—and reached for her hand. Once he was able to grab her, he wrapped his fingers around her wrist and tugged so that her palm rested upon the creature’s bright scales. Aaiva was shocked at how cold it felt on her skin, colder even than the dark tendrils of magic that currently held them within its icy depths.

Aaiva grinned with childish delight as the thing wriggled beneath her touch, eventually leaving her and her companion alone in order to chase after his partner who had just disappeared into the darkness. Alone with Solas, Aaiva turned, attempting to find some way to express the bubbling excitement that was coursing through her. Grabbing the elf by the shoulders, Aaiva pressed herself against him, attempting to somehow transfer all of her emotions so that he could feel what she couldn’t adequately express. After a moment, they separated, and Solas just looked at her with a knowing gleam in his eye. Aaiva let her hands fall to his bare chest, and wondered briefly if any of what she was feeling in this dream world was real. Was it actually his heart that thudded beneath her palm? Was it truly his skin that left her own burning?

In that moment, Aaiva wanted nothing more than to be awake, to actually hear the steady rhythm of his heart and to really feel the burning heat of his touch. A thrumming pleasure lanced from her core as she caressed Solas’ bare chest, her hands slowly sliding lower towards his stomach. He tensed as she fingered the lining of his smallclothes, and in turn Aaiva bit her lip hard enough to make herself wince.

Meeting his gaze, they regarded each other for another moment; each staring at the shimmering form of other as the moonlight danced over their exposed skin. A furious urge to smash her lips against his threatened to overtake her, and she attempted to smother the instinct, hanging her head low and letting her hand fall away.

When she had recovered herself enough to look back at him, her eyes shimmered with an unspoken plea.

Please, they seemed to say.

How could he refuse?

Able to sense her desperation, Solas’ own gaze darkened with desire, and he pressed his lips against the girl’s forehead, whispering something unintelligible that sent Aaiva whirling back into consciousness.


	6. A First Time For Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This immediately follows Solas and Aaiva's shared experience in the fade from the Chapter 11 in my fic "Only Fools Rush In", and we see what happens with the couple upon waking up!
> 
> *SUPER NSFW*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always appreciate constructive comments/criticism. Let me know how I am doing!

“Solas!”

_He wouldn’t stop…He wouldn’t stop!_

Aaiva clawed at her assailants back, not pausing when she felt the pull of bare skin against her nails. Her thighs pressed together, and she called out once more to him, desperate for something, anything, to buy her some time, to stop this assault before she…she…

The words wouldn’t come to her—she had no frame of reference from which to name the impending explosion that currently clawed at her insides and threatened to consume her totally. Suddenly aware of her own lack of control, Aaiva reached out, pulling Solas’ face upwards to meet her gaze. His eyes were misty, passion clouding them and turning them a deep stormy gray that made her insides tighten. She frowned at the sudden absence of touch, and then moaned as he took one of her nipples between his teeth and tugged sharply. He smiled at the way she struggled beneath him, and he let her writhe in futile frustration a while as he licked his lips clean from her wetness.

“Solas, wha—“Aaiva whimpered as he captured her wrist in his hand and brought her fingers to his lips; eagerly sucking on the tips. The warm heat from his mouth caused her body to tilt upward in a wild arch, desperate for anything to satisfy the throbbing pulse between her legs.

He adjusted his position so that he came to lay behind her, and eased an arm underneath her head to support both his and her weight as he shifted to his side. Once he was comfortable, he set her fingers free with a gruff, throaty chuckle, and grabbed her waist instead; pulling her hips so that she fell flush against his own. Leaning down, he quickly nuzzled the skin directly below her right ear before taking the vulnerable lobe into his mouth. As he sucked, Aaiva became increasingly aware of the chill of her fingers, still wet from his kisses, as they were guided over the curve of her breasts and down the bare expanse of her stomach; coming to rest at the entrance of her sex.

Unsure of his intentions, she turned to study the man behind of her, attempting to read the foggy opacity of his gaze as he led her hand through the slick wetness and into the throbbing heat within her. Aaiva gasped at the sensation, and allowed her eyes to fall shut. She could feel her pleasure gently pulsing around her fingers, each beat signaling the steady culmination of that indescribable tension that he had tortured her with just moments before.

Controlling her hand, he pressed it against her sex, using his own to increase the pressure on her clitoris as he lead her in a series of gentle rolling motions that seemed to hit every center of pleasure that Aaiva could imagine. Soon, she began to moan again—short little bursts of sound that seemed so foreign to her ears— and Solas accompanied her soft cries with his own lilted encouragement.

As she began to tremble and whimper with more abandon, Solas was forced to shush her exclamations, placing a ready palm against her mouth to stifle the sound. Murmuring sweetly in her ear, he gradually eased the pressure of his hand, eventually coming to a stop that left Aaiva shaking with unspent passion. Rapidly changing targets, he wrapped his arms around her waist and moved to place his mouth once more on her breast; kissing and nipping at the sensitive flesh until she was begging for his mercy.

“P..please, vhenan.”

Solas stopped his ministrations immediately, concern marring the glorious passion that lit his face. Lifting his mouth from her breast, he reached to caress her cheek. “Yes, Aaiva?“

 _No! Fuck!_ Aaiva huffed at the loss of sensation. Why did he stop? Her breath was coming now in short, shaky drags that reflected the hollow buzzing in her ears, and she groaned as her legs pressed together, so pathetically desperate to continue Solas’ merciless conquest of her body.

In her madness, Aaiva reached out for him, only managing to gain purchase onto the tip of his right ear. She gently tugged at the soft point in an attempt to guide his mouth back to her aching breasts; her wild scramble for completion warranting a husky laugh from the elf. She was a demanding little thing, and the knowledge made him grin with unwarranted satisfaction as he flicked her nipple with his thumb.

“Solas!” She groaned at his teasing, and her annoyance was quickly doubled as her stomach clenched in desire. Aaiva growled in frustration; she needed him to continue, to show her what lay at the end of all his torturous attentions, or she feared she may explode from the agony of it all.

Although she knew it was hopeless, she pressed her legs together once more, her torment evident on her face. “Please…Solas…”

She leaned upward so that her forehead pressed against his, attempting to communicate her desire to him. “Please, I want …I have to…I need…” But she didn't know what to say, or how to convince him to relieve her of that torturous pleasure.

When he didn’t respond within a few seconds, she whimpered, pressing her backside against the stiff outline of his member. She smiled at his sharp intake of breath, and repeated the motion, encouraged by the rigid heat that strained against his smallclothes.

He held her against his chest as he began to return the contact, pressing himself firmly against her as he slid a skilled hand down to her sex.

“What do you _want_ , my heart?”

Aaiva gasped. Without any sort of preamble, he inserted a finger into her wet heat, and watched as she rolled her hips against him in time to the finger that danced inside of her.

“What is it, vhenan? What do you _need_ , hm?" He added a second finger to his arsenal, pumping harder as she stifled a heaving groan.

"Tell me, my love, _what. must. you. do_? Solas slowed, allowing his fingers to deftly punctuate the space between each word before stopping completely once he felt her begin to tighten around his hand.

Aaiva responded with babbling nonsense; the girl already starting to come undone as the tension in her body escalated. Noticing her impending climax, Solas removed his hand from her depths and placed himself over top of the girl; beginning the delicious journey down to her core with deliberate slowness, and leaving a wet trail of kisses that completely covered the naked expanse of her trembling belly. After easing himself between her legs, he placed two light pecks on her inner thighs, and lifted them so that they rested on his shoulders. Before he allowed her the satisfaction of his touch, however, he blew a cold stream of air at the center of her being, and Aaiva had to bite her lip to stifle the cry that rose to her throat.

She watched transfixed as Solas slid his right hand up to cup her breast, letting the other grip the area just behind her knee. Then, with only a crooked smirk as warning, he began devouring her, sucking and massaging the small bundle of nerves at her center with the slick heat of his tongue. He carried on in this way without leniency; and Aaiva could barely stand the intensity of the sensation.

Solas refused to falter this time as she whimpered his name; begging him for mercy as he forced a stream of incoherent speech from her quivering throat. Neither did he cease his attentions when she began to mewl and claw at him again in futile desperation, leaving bright, angry marks that stung Solas’ skin and made his cock twitch with furious desire. Nor did he slow his tongue’s rapid pace even as she called out to the creators with a strangled cry, the world behind her eyes beginning to tilt and shimmer in time to the pulsating pleasure that he elicited from her. The intensity of her passion made her lose all sense of everything for a moment, and she remained unaware of herself even as he clamped his hand over her gaping mouth.

“Solas, are you in there?” Cassandra’s voice cut through the heady haze of Aaiva’s pleasure, but the girl was unable to stop the rolling waves of sensation that crashed down upon her, leaving her forced to writhe mutely beneath Solas as he answered their interrupter.

“Yes, Cassandra!” His response was curt, aggravation tainting the edges of his voice.

“Come now, it’s nearly noon. We must be going!”

Aaiva’s eyes fluttered as she began to come down from her climax, her hips rolling to the echo of Solas’ ministrations.

Solas didn’t answer Cassandra, choosing instead to partake in a moment of silent adoration for the sweaty, wriggling woman that beamed at him from behind the hand that was still barred over her mouth.

Varric’s throaty chuckle soon became audible, and Solas groaned at the intrusion.

“Hey! You wouldn’t happen to know where the Inquisitor is, would you Chuckles? She hasn’t been around all morn—“

“Varric!” There was a thump and a soft murmur of voices as Cassandra scolded the dwarf.

“Get up, Solas! Inquisitor! Varric and I are going to ready the horses.” The couple regarded each other silently as their companions stomped away, and Solas rolled his eyes and sighed; making a point of biting Aaiva’s inner thigh as he rose to ready himself for departure. The girl hissed through bared teeth and grabbed her naked breasts in response to his touch, pulling and teasing her nipples the same way Solas had done earlier, but her invitation was grudgingly rejected as the mage planted a series of chaste kisses from her belly to her neck, ending with a final peck on her forehead before he rose to his feet.

Moments later, Aaiva and Solas were both tugging on the remaining articles of clothing that had littered the tent. Aaiva was quiet, reliving the morning’s events with numb fascination. Racing through her head were so many questions: _What had all of that been? What was that explosion of feeling that still tickled her skin?_ She thought that she knew sex, or at least understood the mechanics of it, but that was something different…something else…something more. _Was it possible to have sex without having sex?_ It sure seemed seemed like it was. _Was everything she thought she knew about her own body wrong_?

Hiding behind a sheltering tumble of curls, Aaiva attempted to conceal the deep scarlet that stained everything from her cheeks to her ears as she exited the tent with Solas, and marched over towards their impatient companions.


	7. You are a Wonder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisitor complains to Solas after a long day of training with Cullen. 
> 
> This was in response to a prompt that required a "you're being cute" kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading, and, as always, feedback in any form is amazing!
> 
> <3

Lavellan burst into the rotunda like a storm; her hair flying about wildly as a scowl dragged along the delicate arch of her lips. Her every footstep was earthshattering; a stomping declaration of her outrage.

Solas perked up when she entered, his throat catching as his heart increased its rhythm. She was beautiful, especially like this; a beacon of pure, unadulterated emotion that could wilt even the hardest of hearts. The rage in her eyes stole his breath as she marched around the room, and he found himself increasingly enamored by her fury.

“I have had it with Cullen,” she hissed as she threw her staff towards the wall, “I’m done. I quit!”

The staff landed with a resounding clatter that echoed throughout the entire tower. Stifling his amusement at her outburst, Solas cleaned off the brush he had been using, and placed it neatly on the ground.

“What happened?” He tried to keep his voice level, but it wavered, betraying him. Thankfully, the inquisitor was too upset to notice.

“Ugh!” She stomped her foot, causing sparks to fly haphazardly from where her boot made contact with the floor. “He’s just…just so…so…”, she shrieked as she threw her arms to the sky.  

The air filled with electricity, prickling Solas’ skin and covering his flesh in goosebumps. He rubbed his arms to whisk them away, responding to her statement with an unintentional chuckle. “How has the Commander offended you _today_ , vhenan?”

The inquisitor shot him a nasty look, and Solas’ grin widened. Their rivalry was nothing new to him. If he wasn’t so sure of her aversion to Templars, retired or not, he may have assumed she held a childlike fancy for him. Now that Solas had established his relationship with her, her contempt for the Commander was a source of entertainment only rivaled by the Iron Bull’s attempts to beat him at chess.

“Everything!” Her voice rose in pitch as she continued, “he made me spar with that oaf, Herri, _again_ , and once getting my ass beat over and over was no longer amusing, he made me _fucking_ run around the battlements. Look!”

She ripped off her shirt and threw the sweat-soaked cloth to the ground, exposing her bare skin. All across her arms and stomach where long, purple marks. Bruises made from a sparring sword, Solas recognized.

The mage smirked. It looked worse than it was, and Lavellan was known to be dramatic. However, when he looked back up, he felt his heart drop into the pit of his stomach.

“Are you crying!?” Solas crossed the distance between them quickly, and lifted her chin to get a better look.

“No!” The dirt that caked her face was streaked, broken apart by a flurry of tears that had escaped from the thick lashes framing her eyes and onto her cheeks. “I’m just…just so angry!” She yanked her chin away and stomped to the couch; landing on the cushions in a rumpled heap.

“I ran forever, Solas. And he just stood there and watched the whole time!” Her voice shook as more tears fell, and she rushed to wipe the wetness from her face.

Solas felt himself lose control, a deep laugh clawing its way through his lips before he had the sense to bury it. The Inquisitor gazed at him in horror as he sat next to her, and tried to scoot away, but Solas wrapped his arms around her narrow shoulders and buried his face against her neck.

“You,” he murmured as he kissed her throat.

“Are.” Solas bit her lip, letting it linger between his a moment as he savored her taste.

“A wonder.” He pecked the tip of her nose and pressed his forehead against hers. She looked at him in astonishment, confusion dimming the anger that had burned so brightly just seconds ago, and returned his embrace.


	8. Pala Em

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was in response to a prompt asking for a "lazy morning kiss". It quickly turned into smut, as you can see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Words in Elvhen:
> 
> On dhea - good morning  
> Sathan - please  
> Vhenan'ara - my heart's desire  
> Pala em - fuck me

 

Lavellan awoke just as the sun began its greedy ascent across the night sky. In the distance, rays of light cracked through the sheet of darkness hovering over the earth, their brightness dimming the gentle glimmer of the stars and calling the moon to rest. Soft hues of pink and orange flashed behind her eyelids, prying them open as their strength grew, and demanding that she start the day.

Her companion shifted as sunlight filled the room, draping a heavy arm over her waist and drawing her nearer. The inquisitor yawned in gleeful protest; reluctant to leave the world of dreams, but happy to feel the steady warmth of her lover’s body as he lay next to her.

 “On dhea, vhenan.” A husky murmur perforated the silky silence of early morning. Lavellan let the sound wash over her; Solas’ greeting permeating every fiber of her being as she lingered between sleep and wakefulness. Groggily, she imagined the gentle rhythm of his voice as though they were the colors of the dawn, his tone rising and falling like the sun as it painted the sky. 

 “On dhea,” Lavellan’s voice crackled, still hoarse from sleep. Wrapping her arm around Solas, she snuggled closer and allowed her eyes to flutter open. She was greeted by freckles and flushed cheeks, their earthy comfort contrasting nicely against the cool, ivory expanse of his skin. The hues were complimented further by his eyes, their vivid, azure perfection dappled with flecks of silver. His mouth curled up into a smile when he saw that she was awake, his lips rosy like the rising sun.

Solas’ hand drifted along the ridge of her back, trickling over her skin like the breeze until it reached the base of her neck. His fingers danced lightly along the edge of her scalp, tracing a pattern that sparked a blind heat in her belly as the gentle blooms of sensation prompted by his touch overcame her.

The inquisitor shivered at the feeling, and her breath caught in her throat. It was still incredible to her how expertly he was able to navigate her body—how he seemed to know her every curve, every place she longed to be touched, and how. As if reading her thoughts, he took his attentions a step further; his fingers brushing delicately over the shell of her ear.

“Oh!” Lavellan’s mind went blank, and, unable to contain herself, she arched her back. Her bare breasts pressed against his chest; her body relishing the connection of their naked skin as he continued his assault to her ear.

Solas swallowed her whimper with a kiss,  his mouth moving against hers at a gentle, languid pace. The inquisitor was quick to return his affections, and pressed her hips against his as she grazed her teeth against his bottom lip.

The mage groaned softly, and Lavellan doubled her efforts; grinding against him in sync with the pattern their lips until evidence of his arousal pressed firmly against her belly.

Reluctantly breaking kiss, Lavellan wrapped her leg around his waist and straddled him; eliciting a small sigh from her lover. His fingers trailed from her ear to her ass as she began to grind her sex over his length; gaining purchase on the rounded flesh of her bottom as she taunted his member with her wetness. His breathing hitched as she rocked her hips against him, and the Inquisitor smiled at his reaction; making sure to keep her pace steady. _He wasn’t the only one who knew how to tease._

Suddenly, his grip on her rear tightened, and his head fell back into the pillows. “Sathan, vhenan’ara,” Solas pleaded, his eyes slamming shut, “…sathan…”

The inquisitor could feel the heat radiating from him; his dick pulsing with need against her sex. With a triumphant smile, she granted him entrance, and was gifted with a shuddering moan as she lowered herself onto him.

Lavellan could barely stifle her own cries of pleasure as he began to move beneath her. Biting her lip, she rolled her hips in tight circles; meeting his thrusts as best she could. Her movements quickened as he pressed a finger against her clitoris, and she felt a blind passion take over her faculties as she was driven closer to orgasm.

“Pala…em!” she whined, her voice breaking with each thrust of his hips. “pala...!”

Solas groaned, his pace quickening to match the Inquisitor’s as she tightened around him. Her back arched as she fell over the brink; the sensation of him continuing to drive himself further into her prolonging her orgasm until she was blinded by pleasure. Solas followed her quickly, his hips snapping against hers as spilled himself deep inside of her.

“On dhea,” Lavellan gasped as she pressed a cheek against his chest.

Solas wrapped his arms around her and chuckled breathlessly. “Yes, a _very_ good morning, vhenan.”

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to comment/leave constructive criticism.  
> You can find this, and other stuff by following me on Tumblr! 
> 
> http://superb-mediocrity.tumblr.com/


End file.
